12.19.2012

Hibernation

it is addressed thusly:

An ode.

it reads:

It was time to hibernate, we thoughtTo live off our fat for a month or twoOr three as bears, undisturbed withinOur lair, to wake only for springAnd Christmas wine, but to otherwiseRemain somewhat motionless in The cold darkness; do the others seeHow dark it has become? We wonderbut man must work and children callBut the spirit of winter is this; to findThe tomb inviting if only for its restHowbeit the bed and the cave alikeRemind, and the trees retreat to their rootThe world is dead, as it will be dead againAnd once was dead, though the sun isImmortal, at least by the lives of menAnd the seasons of the earth; How brightIs the darkness when the frozen coldEntombs in ice every last thing underThe demure moon; and perhaps the sleetIs her tears in her lonely night And endless track across the heavenLike the road which was and is and willBe; sometimes but a suggestionBut now a long, tired processionAcross the chilled face of the groundWhere the cars breath without soundOf word or idea the inner man foughtIt was time to hibernate, we thought.

Seismographic Radar

A Poem

Is a curious device which is not unlike a part of an unknown whole; or as if a watchmaker had inspiration to make all of the parts of the watch before knowing either what it was or that he was a watchmaker at all.

It speaks to and from that mode of thinking which is almost purely masculine; it is not unlike music but is not music, it is the cousin of music and its companion. It has a tripartite nature like music in rhythm, rhymes and narrative.

It is almost pure play, and so is accused of mere cleverness or frivolity, but it is also in deadly earnest. In this way, it is like a play of masks or a pageant, but it must be kept with an eye that sees beyond the device itself.

It is an object both of time and space; the mystery of representation and symbol that is in art and music finds its truest expression here. It is still and yet moves, if it is ugly it is instead grotesque, it shocks and appalls the earthly senses, but the incision is clean; the heart is pulled free if but for a moment to ascertain what is really there.

A Purpose

To call to mind that which persists through the flux of time in bright relief of silver and gold -- as it was of old.